Chalk From the Moon: Book 1 Ascendancy
by WrittenAvarice
Summary: After a viscous werewolf attack, little Michael Chalk must learn to tame the wolf inside. But as he quickly learns, being half-human has it's drawbacks. Like rage and blood lust... The first in a long line of werewolf stories...
1. My Name is Michael

The bitter wind swept up behind me as I walked. The once quiet neighborhood became littered with the sounds of rolling beer cans and plastic bags dragging across the concrete street and sidewalks. There were no sounds of crickets on this night, at least as I recall it. The warm summer night crept all around me as I nervously walked to the bar. My tattered, soiled, white shirt and battered old blue jeans wasn't much against the force of the wind on my back, but it's not like I wasn't thankful for this little break from my stagnant, empty rat's nest of a home!

The smell of bleach still clung to me, constantly clashing with the smell of newly prepared hamburger helper. I'd been cleaning the apartment where my mother and I currently resided since morning, and after setting the food on simmer, I decided that I should go get my mother before letting it cool.

By now, this probably seems unhealthy. But this is only the beginning.

My name is Michael Chalk. I am seven years old, and I am on my way to get my drunk of a mother out of the bar before curfew.

It was only a minutes' walk from the apartment complex. A place filled with gang members and drug addicts. For most of the neighborhood, this was the top-of-the-line housing complex. Others held far worse offenders of civilized living. I knew at least twelve sex offenders faces by heart, and a slew of pimps and whores. And yes, I did know at the time what that meant. These things I had to learn to have survived this long under the barb wired wing of my _mother_.

Don's Tavern, the only building with a steady income within five miles, faced me as I approached. Enticing neon lights flashed what types of beer and liqueur were served, and video poker. The large metal door bore a striking resemblance to a meat freezer door, and I wouldn't be surprised if it once was one. Only to be stolen and used as a barely fitting entry point in a broken down shack like Don's Tavern.

I am great full though, that the front door was an entrance only to the bouncers court. A small room, usually occupied by one of two bouncers at a time. The room held a dim red light that cast an almost black shadow around most people's faces. This kind of room made me feel less ashamed of the black eye I sported from the last time I didn't clean the house good enough for my mom.

"Hey Mikey!" Ronnie called through a hurtful smile. I knew he could see my shiner of an eye, but he decided against mentioning it. He knew all too well what my mother would do if she overheard his concern. Blame me, and then slap me until her hands hurt.

Ronnie was a bouncer here. I always felt bad when I saw him here. Every night I wished to hear of him escaping this hell hole and getting on with his life. He was the biggest black man I'd ever seen, but bankruptcy doesn't care how strong you are. For Ronnie, it was just another case of a man with a heart of gold, meeting those without hearts at all.

He wore his same old black undershirt, a smile, and held out his hand to shake my own.

I gripped his hand as hard as I could to make him smile. "Hey Ron."

"COW! Gotta grip there little man!" He said laughing, making me smile slightly as well.

"Do you know where my mom is?" I asked, lowering my voice, hoping she didn't hear me.

A woman's voice shrieked from behind the video poker room doors. "FUCK! Fuck you machine!"

I froze out of instinct, and quickly after, regrouped... Wincing.

"She doesn't sound like she's doing too well." He said, rubbing his eyes. "It's been like this all night. A couple people complained but... Well, I really shouldn't say."

I walked past him announcing my departure and patting his back twice.

"It really doesn't matter at this point."

As I neared the door, fear started creeping up my spine. "M-mom?" I called. I knew she was there, but I had sense enough to sound as weak as possible, hoping maternal instinct would finally kick in and she wouldn't ream me for my disrespectful attitude.

"So the pansy finally came to pick up mommy, huh?" She asked, vodka lining her voice with such malice that you'd sooner believe her to be the pope, rather than my mother.

"Y-yes, Ma'am. I made h-hamburger help-per." I couldn't stop stuttering. And it was just her presence that was doing this. I never talked when my mother was in striking distance.

"Quit fuckin' stutterin'! I'll be out in a minute! Go bother someone else, maybe they'll take you home and I won't have to bother with such a winey piece of sh-- Fucking Machine!!!"

I knew at that point it was better to leave well enough alone! And acting on orders, I chose a small table near the room inhabited by my mother and started people watching.

Tonight was rather empty, save a couple sharing what I could only guess as their first beers, due to their ages. They barely looked twenty-one! A group of shady characters that could only be described as die hard Mark Echo fans occupied a table right behind the couple. And I noticed two of them were passing around what I could only guess to be joints. But who was I to guess, I'm just a kid.

Then there was him. He was thin and pale, the kind of flake that usually blew in due to a crack habit or worse. I didn't know at the time the damage this man was capable of, and still find it quite disturbing. But I had no idea of knowing... neither of us did.

He stared right into my eyes. Those cobalt eyes glared right into my own, burning right into the back of my head. And after a minute of praying that my mother would just give up so we could go home... he stood.

He stood tall. At least seven feet. A black leather coat hung low and glided across the floor as he strolled right up to me. I backed up as far as I could in my chair, but enough just wasn't enough.

I closed my eyes, only to have him rest his hand on my head. I didn't open them. I could feel him lower his head until it was adjacent with my own. His mouth inches from my ear, he spoke. A voice so cold that I shuddered at the very words he spoke.

"Soon your prison will become a vast field of possibilities."

And with that he left, a cold aura hung around me. All the way til' my mother finally got sick of losing our bread money.

She yelled at me as we left the bar, claiming I'd been her bad luck charm since my birth. I could only exchange glances of worry with Ronnie as I headed out the door and into what I thought was going to be another night in hell. I was wrong... but not by much.


	2. No Longer Chalk

My mother was deep into breaking me down when I heard it. Through the soft brushing sound of the midnight wind, came a voice, I'd kill never to have heard again. A voice that made me think of every sick, twisted act its owner could possibly do to a weak seven year old boy.

"My prey has finally arrived."

My mother almost fell as she stumbled to look behind us. And as she did, I was frozen with fear.

The sound of claws ripping into human flesh seemed to stop time. Blank and afraid, I tried to blot out the sound of my mother, trying to gasp through the blood filling her lungs. And even though every part of my being wanted to run, my body began to turn around.

The site was sickening to the point of brutal. My mother lay inches from me, her throat gouged out in a single swipe, and blood pouring out of her like she was toppled over bucket. The salty smell hit my nostrils and I could feel the bile rising from my fear.

There stood the man from the bar. His face spattered with the blood of my mother wore a sick smile full of sharp, jagged teeth. Blood covered his black clothes, though you wouldn't know at a first glance. And his hands... by God... his hands weren't hands at all. But thick paws with razor sharp claws.

"So when are you going to run?" He said smiling and stepping over my dying mother. "Huh?"

"I-I uh..."

Fear turned my sight blurry as he approached me. Those thick claws grasped my shoulders with such a force that I could barely breath.

"Not even going to struggle." He said, disappointment was absent though. It felt like he knew I would react this way, but I knew I didn't stand a chance.

"Arrre y-you going t-t-to k-k--"

"Kill you!" He said, shrieking in laughter. "It's not like it hadn't crossed my mind."

My skin crawled at every syllable. My lungs felt trapped within me. My heart skipped a beat, and my teeth started to clench tighter than ever.

"But, no. You see boy, I've gotten my meal for the night."

My eyes shot over to my mother, she wasn't moving anymore. Blood pooled around her torso and seeped into her grey shirt. Tears flooded my eyes as his words became more and more horrifying.

"You're going to eat her?" I whimpered, trying to hold back the tears of what had recently become apparent.

"It's in my nature... as is the instinct to multiply."

Time stopped completely. The wind didn't blow. The air was neither warm nor cold. There was only him. Only me. Only danger.

And without warning, he reared back, and a dozen sharp teeth dug into my neck and shoulder. I could feel my shirt moisten, and the saliva covering the wound seared like acid.

After only a second, he retracted his fangs from me and dropped me on the side-walk. "Hopefully _she'll _make it here before you start your first change. She _has been _following quite close behind me... maybe you'll get lucky boy."

And with that he left, gouging his clawed hands into his victim's neck and dragging her away like a fresh kill.

I was left there. Lying across the cold concrete, praying it was just a dream... a nightmare. My vision was fading to black quickly and my muscles felt like pounded meat. I couldn't stand, I couldn't save my mother. I couldn't save myself. And as I lay there aghast with shock slowly setting in, I heard the screeching of a car coming to an immediate halt. I heard a door open and shut, and then felt the softest hands across my head.

I moaned something incoherent and then... I was asleep.


	3. Rehabilitation

I faded in and out of consciousness, sick and disoriented. I remember the hum of a car engine and the sounds of the car's tires beating against the un-kept Louisiana roads we traveled. Every now and again I'd find myself staring up at the roof of the car. The beige cloth that clung to the ceiling made me think of beach sand. Not that I'd ever seen a beach, but from what I could imagine, it must be beautiful.

Shifting from asleep to awake without knowing it held a deep frustration to my chest. Not long after going black again, I'd half-awoken to the sounds of sirens. Red and blue lights flashed across the tan cloth. Then there was yelling, a gunshot, a muffled scream, and then the hum of the engine. The smell of blood reeked in the car as we sped along wherever we were.

What I can only guess to be an eternity later, we finally stopped. Voices were yelling back and forth and the car door my head rested on gave way. Soon I was being carried. We were soon inside. I could tell because of the lights and yelling that this must be far away from civilization.

Soon after entering the establishment, I was let down across a soft bed. The lights were turned dim, and I couldn't have been more grateful. I felt hands all over my chest. My shirt was sliced up and removed, and then... there was only peace and quiet.

*****

I lay awake in a strange room. Unlike my last home, this one had no stench of alcohol. It was without mold and mildew. There were no roaches gathering in corners, no smell of soiled sheets or worn mattresses. Here there was Burgundy wall paper lining the walls. There was a large dark wood dresser bearing a small TV. Light shone through the window rather than glow a sickening yellow. And most surprisingly, there was a woman.

She sat asleep across from where I lay. Her arms were crossed and covered in dried blood. Her dark red hair hung across her face, catching on her small nose. And rather than complain about it, I felt light hearted for once... just to hear her snoring.

I tried to sit up, but my right arm wasn't having any of that and I had to rely on my left to support me enough to sit. I whimpered a little at the pain, awaking the woman, and gently asked, "Where am I?"

As if rushed to do so, she ran to my side. With her hand set to rest my head, she lowered be back down to relax. "You shouldn't move."

Her face was drenched in sadness, a weigh I, at the time, couldn't comprehend. "But I have to go home." I said. Disorientation was starting to nip at my heels.

Her eyes shone thickly through the dim room and that's when I noticed it. A thick Cobalt line ran around her irises. Memories flooded me from the night before. More than the others was the sight of my mother's blood dripping from that mans claws. I couldn't suppress my shock.

"She's d-dead..." I said, losing more and more of my breath as I started to panic. "That man k-k-killed her!" I said shooting straight up, ignoring the pain.

I started hyperventilating... then, I screamed.

Tears poured out of my eyes like a sink facet. And soon after, the pain was too much to bare and I found myself staring at the cold black of unconsciousness once again.

I was in that bed for the better part of two days. If not asleep, then crying on this strange woman's shoulder as the pain worsened with each passing hour.

*****

Again I awoke, and this time I was surprised to find that the pain had subsided. I was no longer crying. Mind you, I wasn't done coping either. Careful not to wake the woman who'd been by my side since I'd been bitten, I pulled the blanket slowly off my legs and swiveled off the bed. The warm carpet floor met me with a soft comfort. I strolled past my guardian, opened the door, and headed down the stairs that met me. From the top I could see the living room, and my current destination, the kitchen. The overhang was beautiful, especially considering the living arrangements I'd once had.

The living room had various fake plants near the entrance, hiding an empty coat rack. The tan carpet ran all the way from my room to the edge of the kitchen. A large L-shaped couch lined the wall to the stairs and balcony, adjacent to another love seat couch of the same plush fabric. I could see small red splotches along the stairs as I strolled down them, careful not to have them creek at my every step. They were quite strong though, surprising me yet again with it's own elegance. As I passed behind the love seat I noticed a large TV, maybe the biggest I'd ever seen! Its holder was a large entertainment center twice the size of it's occupant.

The kitchen was a modern marvel of appliances. Electric stove top oven. A huge refrigerator. And from what I could see in a small room in the back, a huge deep freezer. A small island counter set itself in the middle of the kitchen, and to it's right a thick, mahogany wood table that could seat eight.

I dug into the cabinets, looking for anything that I could cook, and as luck would have it, I stumbled across a box of Cheeseburger helper.

Thirty minutes of hunting down ingredients, a large pot, skillet, and strainer later, I'd begun cooking. The stove top heated up faster than that damned gas oven at my last home!

As I cooked, I found my senses to be going haywire. I could practically hunt down anything I needed by smell alone. The small print on the back of the box, that used to hurt my eyes when I read, was suddenly clear as day. And the best discovery of all, was my sense of taste. After going three days without food, my taste buds were in heaven.

I was shocked, however, to realize that I had acquired an audience.

"I see you're finally awake." She said, resting her crossed arms along the rail halfway down the stairs. I'd wondered silently to myself how long she'd been watching me, but rather than ask...

"Food's ready." A small smile flickered across my face as I noticed hers.

"Good, I'm starving as well."


	4. Learning the Ropes

She sat across from me at the table. Whereas she said she was hungry, she just stared. I thought of what my mother would do if I stared at her at the table, but wiped the foolish thought from my mind instantly.

"So what's your name?" She asked, her chin resting on her hands.

"Michael." I replied, soon after shoveling what was left of the food on my plate into my mouth. It was rude, but I was so hungry.

"Mines Claire. Claire Belmont."

"Where am I?" A question that as blunt as it was, needed answering.

"Your new home." She said. A sad silence fell upon us, but I really didn't want to deal with that at the moment.

"I know it's hard for you," She began, knowing herself that she didn't want to ask, "But I need to know who... attacked you."

I had no problem answering. The subject in general felt numb to me. "I don't know his name, but he said some woman was following him, and hopefully she'd find me before my first change... What did he mean?"

I placed my fork down onto my plate and pulled my legs up onto the chair so I could sit crossed-legged. She seemed to hesitate at first but soon found the courage to speak. "Have you ever heard of werewolves?"

_Is she serious?! _The thought, at the time, was so ridiculous, that I couldn't help but laugh. At least until I saw she wasn't. "Like in the movies?" I asked, humoring her.

"... Yeah--no."

She seemed a little on edge about the whole subject, but soon found the words for it. "Yes. He was one of us---"

"Us?!" I asked, almost falling out of my chair. "You're like him!" I said backing away from her a little.

"No!"She yelled back. Then calming back down, she spoke. "We, you and I, aren't like that sick...man." She seemed to avoid what she really wanted to say, but there are some things that you just can't dumb down for a seven year old boy. Like "you were adopted", and "you're a half human killing machine!"

"That can't be true! Werewolves don't exist!" I yelled.

We bickered back and forth until she seemed to be at the breaking point. "Then look out the freaking window!" She yelled.

I was skeptical and a little afraid of her belief, and thoughts of escaping kept racing through my mind. But, as ordered by someone with such a resolve, I did as I was told. And truth be told, I didn't see anything. The night sky hung dark above, and I could barely see anything past the driveway. But soon after I'd peered out the window, I saw them. Two large black figures fighting in the distance. I'd soon realize they were just playing, but the figures were so viscous. Bright eyes instantly caught my own, and I was stricken with fear. "Oh god..."

*********

That night I'd locked myself in my room, praying more than I'd ever prayed before. I wouldn't leave that room, even to pee. I kept all my lights on, including the TV. I listened for the beasts to be crawling up to my room to eat me, but nothing. Claire had knocked on my door and practically begged me to come out, but... I wasn't having any of that!

It wasn't until a week of finding food at my door and waiting for whoever brought it to get far away, that I'd finally been caught at my crossroad.

********

I'd opened my door, usually the smell of Claire hung in the air around the house. But today was different; there was something more... masculine about this smell. And as I opened the door, I found out why.

A thick hand grabbed the inside of the door, wrenching it open. In front of me was a man who appeared to be in his twenties, like Claire. His short black hair added to the threatening look of his eyes. If there's one trait that I didn't like about their kind, it's the cobalt lining around their irises.

He was on me in half a second, grabbing the collar of my shirt and wrenching me to my feet.

From downstairs Claire could be heard yelling at him. "Leave him alone! He can learn when he's gotten use to us!" She wasn't scared for me at all, even though my face spelled panic.

"No he can't! And I didn't come home just to have some mutt stink up my room because he's scared! Once he's changed, he'll be fine, just get out of my way!"

I felt abandoned when she did, and there was so much fear built up in me, that I couldn't take it. That's when the changes started.

"Huh." He said, dragging me out into the front yard, "He's started already."

I couldn't contain the screams of my first change, and were as, at the time, it was the most terrifying experience I'd ever had to face, and it was one that I'll cherish the most.


	5. Workout

There is pain, and then, there is agony. The experience of change was definitely the later. Though I'd find out later on that it was due to the fact that it was my first change. And as I writhed in pain whilst being dragged by my ripping shirt collar onto a gravel driveway, it became apparent that this first part of the change would be a crippling experience.

It started quick, exploding in my intestines, searing the skin around my stomach to the point of vomiting. I was quite suddenly let go, my head hit the rocky driveway and I was left to myself. I could feel the muscles over my stomach stretch and grow. It felt like my body was on fire as it spread in all directions. My arms ached at first, but when the bones started breaking and reforming I was lost in a battle between control and excruciating pain.

A sudden pop near my spine caused me to sit up abruptly and I doubled over my legs, gripping my stomach trying to squeeze the pain away. It wasn't working. Tears flooded my eyes as I felt my fingernails sharpen and cut into my skin.

Blood pumped fiercely into my head until I my increasing heartbeat sounded like cannons firing. My skin started sweating cold and then grew tough, the self-inflicted wounds on my stomach closed up and soon I was on all fours, panting.

I opened my eyes to a sea of dark color. The hues and tones of everything around me were amplified ten-fold, along with my senses. The smell of the morning due covering the grass I stood on filled my nostrils. I could feel and distinguish the ground I stood on perfectly. My claws dug into the dirt and I howled.

Though I was cut short by a harsh blow to my sides. I skidded only a two feet before clawing at the ground and canceling my momentum. As I gathered my balance, I stared at my opponent. He stood three times my size. Black and grey fur covered his massive body, much like a tabby cat. That cobalt blue ring was thick in his eyes. Ears pointed strait up, as if in a threatening manner. And as he poised to charge me, his mouth hung open like a hungry wolf. Then he pounced.

Acting on instinct I launched myself under him, sliding on the wet grass then catching him from behind, bitting down hard on his torso. He yelped and growled before swatting me away with his massive paws and I had no way of dodging. The blow felt like a baseball bat to the face.

I slammed against the ground, and wearily made my way back on to my feet. I crouched low, watching his eyes and waited for his next move. And as if distracted by something else, he turned away.

"He's not Nicky, Derrick!" Claire yelled from the front porch. "You can't be too rough with him!"

So that's what his name was! I'd always figured it was bad manners to drag someone out into the street by their collar and start a fight.

Derrick, obviously not paying attention to Claire, turned his attention back to me, and before I could react, he charged. I did all I could do. I planted my feet, hard into the ground, and braced for impact. The hit was devastating. What felt like a bull head-butting me, had suddenly sent me skidding across the ground. It took a lot longer to stop the momentum and gain my ballance but it was definitely faster than he'd anticipated. Cause when I looked up, he was turning away, heading back for the house. This was my chance! Charge as quietly as possible and then at least hurt him.

Sure my plan was flawed, and there was no way a mere pup could take down a full-grown werewolf. But it was better than quitting.

I charged. More like sprinted on my toes. I barely made a sound and before he knew what hit him, I dove. My teeth sunk right onto his ass and I dug my claws in like a tiger trying to take down a gazelle. Derek yelped even louder than when I'd bitten him earlier!

And as I'd predicted, he swung down hard, and fast to swat me away. And as he did, I let go, narrowly avoiding another devastating blow.

When he turned to confront me though, he had a whole different look on his face. He knew instantly the game I was playing, and he wasn't going to sit around and let me make a fool of him. He stood. Crouching, a werewolf is fear-sum and terrifying. Standing, they were even more deadly. Being used to the center of gravity on two legs more than four, like me, I was sure that this would definitely be the end.

But he turned, and walked away. His palms were tightened into fists and every other step he'd look back at me, daring me to attack.

I'd never felt so stone cold abandoned ever.

Derrick made his way to the back of the house, taking a minute to change back and head inside. A scowl was imprinted on his face as he strolled past Claire on the porch. "You're not going to wait for him?" She said, obviously referring to me.

"Nope." He said, opening the door and disappearing into the house.

An eerie fear crawled up my spine as I sat down. I feared that I'd pissed him off, and being as innocent looking as possible, I stared at Claire.

"Don't give me that face! You shouldn't have goosed him!" She said trying to suppress a smile. "And he left without showing you how to change back..." She finished, talking to herself.

She looked through the opened door, then back at me, then back at the door. Then she suddenly snapped back to reality as I could guess. "Stay in the yard." Then she was gone as well.

I have to say that the ten minutes I was out there... sucked. I had all this pent up energy, and no one to play with. I felt like a kid who'd just gotten a nintendo with no games. But she was quick to return, holding a pair of folded clothes and a towel with her.

"You're going to have to get rid of all that energy before you can change back, it's one of our many flaws." She said, lying the clothes and towel on the railing to the porch. "When you're tired and want to change back... just relax. It'll just melt away. Trust me."

It was hard to listen to her, something I'd find to be apparent with all of our kind while changed. Hearing her talk was like me trying to decipher a second language. It was tricky to piece together what she'd said, but it only took a little soon after she went back inside, I began exploring... while staying in the yard. I walked around to the back of the house, tried to climb a few trees, dug a few holes... normal wolf stuff. But it wouldn't be an hour until I could change back. All I had to do at the time was think. I thought about how Derrick could change at will and I couldn't. I thought about how I'd be treated by him when I finally came inside. And I thought about home. Something I was sure of, at the time, that I'd awake to any second. A sad truth that would take years to get over.


	6. Monster

I lied awake all of that night. I couldn't sleep. Spiraling in and out of my day dreams, all I could hold on to were the images of my mother. Covered in blood while the trash, blown in by the wind, collected around her body. It's not that I feel sad... rather, I fought to find out how I was _supposed_ to feel. How does one react when his tormentor/mother is killed before him? Am I supposed to feel sad or free? Again, that heavy, numb feeling crept over me. Letting me know I was thinking too hard on the subject.

Pushing myself up til I was sitting, I looked through the thick darkness to find my glass of water. It was the fifth I'd had that night, and after sipping the last of it away, I knew it wouldn't be the last. And being as cautious as I could without waking anyone, I (like a child) tip-toed every step. I sniffed the air for any sign of the other two, and walked on my heels from the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen.

The sink barely made a sound. Pouring water into my slanted glass, like my mom taught me to do with beer, there were no sounds. Mission complete.

Getting back up stairs was totally different, being as the stairs only creaked and moaned when pushed in, which happens when you go up. It took a whole two minutes to creep up to the top, and when I finally did, a voice sounded out in the distance.

It was low and muffled even more by the closed door all the way down the hall. My bedroom was right in front of the stairs, and too the right were three other rooms, and only one had the lights on. Derrick's room.

"Sure." He said, obviously talking on the phone. I found myself wishing, at the time, that I could hear the other voice on the phone, but instead, all I had for gaining knowledge was one side of the conversation. "You're arriving tonight?!" He almost yelled.

"Nothing's wrong, it's just that it's damn near four in the morning." He was hiding something.

"I'm not hiding anything."

I stopped breathing, trying to remember weather or not I'd spoke my mind or not. But as the conversation continued, I had to guess that the receiver had suspected his out burst... like me.

"Sure thing. All- all right, I'll make some coffee or somethin'. Bye." The sound of Derrick slamming the phone was my definitely an eye opener for me, seeing as how, at the time, my face was against the door and the euphoric effects of sleep-deprivation were slowly tiring my eye-lids.

I heard his feet hit the floor, and then make a B-line straight for his door. I never ran so fast on my toes. I could hear the door knob twist a little as I neared my bedroom, but I definitely wouldn't have enough time to quietly enter. I had to try something else.

Seemingly forgetting something in his room, he let go of the door knob, and taking the chance as it came, I gulped away my drink. And having no time to walk down the stairs, I jumped. Grabbing the rails of the second story walkway, I hurled myself over the edge and quite suddenly, met the couch face first, my cup still clutched in my hand. I heard Derrick's door open, and I made a quiet run for the kitchen.

And as I tried to look as innocent as possible, fixing a glass of water, and looking as half-awake as possible, Derrick came strolling down the stairs. Making so much noise, might I add.

"You're up early." His sarcasm seemed a little all too knowing.

"Just getting a cup of water," I said rubbing my eye for added effect. "So I could get back to sleep."

He eyed me a little while reaching in the cupboard to grab some coffee grounds.

"Well it's too late, now."

"What?" I asked, hoping my cover wasn't completely blown.

"Meaning you better go wake up Claire."

Even after all that eves dropping that I'd know why, but I didn't. Some detective I'll be!

I took a moment to sip my drink a little before finally making my way to Claire's room, ignoring the small protests coming from the stairs. No need being quiet now.

"Hurry on, you little eves dropper."

I winced a little.

******************************************************************************

After waking up Claire I made my way to bed, only getting about ten minutes of sleep before being shaken awake. It was Claire, and she looked a little distressed.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pushing myself up to see the small digital clock on my night stand, and cursing myself a little inside.

"We have to hurry and get you dressed."

I noticed a sense of severity in her voice, it was extremely sobering. Behind her was a small luggage bag filled to bursting, and the her breath smelled like she'd downed the whole pot of coffee!

"But, why-"

"NO..." She yelled before she could catch herself. "No questions, just grab some clothes and meet me outside. Okay?!"

I nodded. Nothing could have been more terrifying for me at that hour. I threw together what ever I believed I could fit in like I was being chased by a monster. As I left my room with a small duffle bag filled with random clothes, I could swear that something was biting at the back of my feet. That feeling of urgency that leaves you feeling haunted and making you shiver is one you'd not likely forget.

As I ran downstairs, skipping several steps at a time, Claire motioned for me to toss my bag to her. I did, and we both got out of the house as fast as possible. Derrick though, calm as a lamb, leant against the doorway, coffee in hand. "You might want to take I-49 to avoid traffic." He yelled waving.

Claire opened my door for me, something she really didn't have to do, but she was in a rush. She was half-way in the driver's side when a solid white car pulled in right next to her. "Howdy!" Came a cheery voice.

The car stopped completely. I couldn't get a good look at who was driving the car with Claire hanging half in/half out of the driver door. Only the driver door opened to the car, the thick smell of blood blew from it and into Claire's.

"I see you haven't changed." Claire said, oddly waving her arm behind her. I guess she was motioning for me to hide, but all I could do was scoot closer to the floor boards.

"Well here's what's left of you're mutt." He said laughing a little. "You did say he bit a small boy, but there wasn't any trace of em'."

A small silence passed between them at the time, I wished it would have lasted longer.

"So, who's your friend?"


	7. A New Home

The smell of blood thickened in the air, spreading like a disease as the man got out of the car. He wore a thick brown business suit broad enough to show on both sides of Claire. Claire, who seemed to be stammering an answer, closed got out and closed the car door.

A large white hand gently moved Claire to the sides. This man, was smiling at me. His eyes were narrow slits holding the most threatening cobalt I'd ever seen. His large smile was off setting to say the least, and his demeanor, was that of a psychopath.

I couldn't tell what he planned to do, I don't think anyone could, or has. A maniac hiding behind a wall of kind words and happy smiles.

"This must be the boy..." he said, standing back up to talk to Claire. "Why didn't you tell me? I'd have brought him here once I was done."

Claire scoffed. "In pieces." The man grabbed his sides and howled with laughter.

"Now, now Claire. I'd have though you had a little more respect for me since you've been holding up in_ my _house."

"It's Wilson's house-" The man laughed, interrupting Claire.

"--While he's here. But since you're white knight is in Russia, this property is mine." His voice turned a blood curdling cold with that last sentence. "And just so you know," He slammed his door shut. "The minute you're not looking, I'll going to pull that little pup's head off."

I froze. Watching him with every bit of attention I could muster. As he bent back down, I sank into my seat. Trying to not look affected was much harder when he (rather it,) was staring me in the face. He smiled that devilish smile and waved a small wave before patting Claire on the back to leave.

Fear.

******************************************************************************

We sped along I-49 heading northbound. Claire kept at a steady pace of eighty, just over the speed limit.

"Michael." She said after a long silence. Ever since we left the house, she'd been a little shaken. She shook as she drove, shook as she lit a cigarette, and shook as she cracked the window. She even shook when she tried to stop shaking. I couldn't say much better for myself.

"Y-yeah?" It was the first time I'd stuttered since my mother died. A feeling that was becoming to common with each passing minute.

"If you ever find yourself stuck in the same room with him, just scream," She looked me in the eye as she said it. "I'll fight as hard as I can to get to you."

"Th-thanks." I guess. It definitely didn't calm me down. Especially the image of the passenger seat of the man's car. It was a massacre. Blood spatter covered the window's, passenger seat, and a little of the windshield.

"Who was that?" I asked, trying to put a name to the monster.

"Dane."

"Why is he like that?"

"No one knows." She said, taking a drag off her cigarette. "Did you see his eyes?"

"Yeah, they were the creepiest I'd ever seen!"

"That's what happens when one of our kind kills and eats people. That thin cobalt line around our eyes widens as we lose control."

"I kinda got the feeling that he was in total control."

"That's what makes him dangerous."

******************************************************************************

It took us twenty hours, with traffic, to reach North Dakota. After the first hour, I'd fallen asleep. Or as close to sleep as you could get when sitting in a car with a nervous driver. She made it apparent that we'd stop for gas, and gas only. She wouldn't leave the car alone with me in it, no matter how much I begged. But who could blame her.

And now that my journey was over, I was hoping that we could get some food... sadly enough though...

"I can't cook."

I stared right at her in disbelief.

"How can you not know?"

"I never learned." Honest answer, but a horrible one.

"But you're a girl!" I know now how sexist it was of me to make that apparent, but disbelief, I belief, is connected to the soul.

"Not all girls know how to cook, you know."

She pulled into a small cull de sac, and pulled into the driveway to a modest little house right in the dead center. The light blue walls complimented the snow more than anything. A rather small garden grew at the base of a small porch connected to the front door, All covered in snow. It was a beautiful house.

"Welcome to My home." Claire stated with her arms held out.

"I thought you lived in Louisiana."

She rustled through her key chain for the front door key. "Got it!"

The frost covered lock fought the turning key a little, but gave in only after a few seconds. The door opened, and a wave of warmth hit my freezing chest. I flung myself inside, letting the warmth embrace me.

Closing the door behind me, and setting the cold wind at bay, I sighed. "So I'm going to have to cook, huh?"

******************************************************************************

A small palate was made after dinner, composed of countless blankets and pillows. Claire was already asleep on it. I on the other hand, lay awake, watching the late night TV with the sound off. She held me. Funny how a simple act could have such a massive effect on someone like me... Never once did my real mother hold me without hurting me. Never once did my real mother make me a warm bed to lay in. And not once in my life, did anyone ever care enough about me to do everything that Claire had. I knew at the time that it was long overdue of a thought, but I appreciated her every choice since we met. She could have left me to die, or to wander the streets. She could have let Dane get to me. She could have just walked away, but she didn't. As perplexing as it was at the time, it was a notion that I'd never forget, and never take for granted.

I pulled a knot of covers between my knees for comfort and backed into her warm body. Ever since I could remember, I'd lied awake and wished that I knew what having a caring mother was like... and now I knew. Now, she was my mother. And I would always be there for her.


	8. Return From Peace

The smell of ground coffee filled the quiet house, co-mingling with the smell of cooked bacon and eggs. The quaint sounds of sizzling bacon being cooked, scraped up and flipped were all that could be heard.

I flipped the last piece of bacon onto a plate covered in napkins and stretched as I made my way to the coffee machine. My legs tingled as if they were falling asleep as I poured myself a cup. I could feel the sleep deprivation crawling into the back of my head. Waking up five hours after a twenty hour day might not have been a good thing after all. But it wasn't like I had a choice, instinct woke me.

I stood in a rather large pair of shorts and a way-too-long white shirt that hung to my knees. I'd cursed myself for not packing more efficiently but what can you do when you're being rushed?

I looked over the counter as I took a sip of coffee and winced a little at the bitter taste. Claire was still asleep. But rather than wake her, I just stood there and wondered why something that smelt so good could taste so bad, and pouring it down the sink, I decided to just quit while I was ahead.

Not being one who ate with others, I made my plate and sat down at the kitchen table, again watching a silent television. Some weird show about an under water sponge was on. Something I might have been interested if I was a normal kid but...

"You made breakfast?" A weary voice called from the living room.

"Yeah, I just finished cooking. Help yourself."

I couldn't really see her from where I sat, and as she walked into the kitchen to fix herself a plate, I'd wish she'd have warned me. He red hair exploded in all directions like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket or something. And noticing this right away, I laughed. I laughed hard.

"Don't laugh at my hair!" She yelled throwing a piece of bacon at me.

I let it slide. "So when am I--"

RIIIIING!!!

I grabbed the cordless phone from behind my chair and answered it just as quickly. "Hello?"

"Can I speak to Claire little boy?" It was a man's voice, though it was kind. Kind of weird, I thought.

"Yeah, please hold."

"For me?" Claire asked sitting across from me at the table, beckoning the phone.

"Yeah, here." I said tossing it to her. She caught it like a girl, fumbling just a little, but enough to make me giggle.

"Shut up!" She yelled at me, smiling a little, "No not you!"

I, not wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation, cleaned off the rest of my plate and went back to the kitchen for more. I happened across only a small bit of what was left, but it wasn't like I couldn't cook more.

As I fixed my meager plate and was half-way pouring a glass of milk, Claire shrieked, scaring the crap out of me. The glass hit the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces and spreading milk everywhere.

She apologized before I could react, and before I could forgive her she said four words I really didn't want to hear. "We're having company tonight."

At the time it meant nothing, but as the day progressed, we went shopping. I wore my emotions on my shoulders. A thick gloom hung around me as we herded between countless crowds to find me 'nice clothes'. I've never been one for appearance, never really had a choice as a matter of fact. And I really wasn't ready to start now. We spent hours in countless lines, stuck around loud, obnoxious people. A strong feeling started to over come me as we prolonged our stay. It was something that I'd never felt towards people, ever before... hate. Something primal wanted these people gone, and for a while I was starting to want them gone as well.

That is, until Claire snapped me out of it. We were inside a Foot Locker when she noticed. And pulling me into a vacant isle, she crouched down and held my shoulders.

"Look Michael." She said, peering right into my eyes. "I know it's hard to control your feelings towards normal people, especially now. But it's something you need to learn, and something you can't afford to dismiss."

I nodded a little, and noticed my trembling hands. I had no idea at the time how powerful my instincts were. "This is one of the many dangers of our kind. If we can't blend, then we can't live. So if you want, we can just sit here for a while and then when you're ready, we can go. Okay?"

I nodded. "I'm fine. But can we hurry up a little?" I asked. "I'm starving." She smiled a little, her worry shifting to the side-lines for now. And that's all I could ask for.

******************************************************************************

I sat in the living room. Groomed like a prince. I wore a pair of tailored jeans bought for much more than they were worth. I felt choked by the tightness of my collared shirt. Red stripes ran vertical, making me look taller. I didn't like it. The main problem though, was my hair cut. I don't ever recall mentioning it, but I liked my hair. It was jet black and strung down evenly around my head. It was long enough to just pull behind my ears and wasn't hard to keep out of my eyes. But now... I looked like a totally different person. I hated my new self.

My hair was damn near skin short on the sides and barely frayed at the top. I tried to stop scratching, even after Claire's constant nagging about it. I was just all around uncomfortable.

A heavy knock quickly drew both of our attentions. Claire, who was in the middle of trying to keep my hands away from my shaved head and neck, was quick to answer. She wore exactly what she always wore. A pair of denim jeans and a pretty shirt, sometimes un-collared, but not tonight.

The door creaked open and a rather large man stepped into the house, smiling. It was that same smile that Dane freak had! Panic rose in my mind, and without thinking, I bolted between the two and shoved him back out before he realized what had happened. And before either of them knew what happened, I slammed the door shut and locked the bottom lock. Feeling a little proud of my courage, I leant against the door. Claire just stared at me, aghast. I learned quick that trouble was brewing, and it was definitely not in my favor.


	9. A Little Sit Down

I got yelled at. So much for being the hero! Thought's of a gracious Claire, gone. Instead, I was filled with disappointment and anger. Where as she started yelling at me on the spot, and quickly unlocking the door to let the stranger inside, I caught the worst of it when she sat me down in my new room. The stranger, had been a gracious victim of my stupidity, and seemed to understand exactly what I were I was coming from. You see, the stranger was Dane's brother, Wilson.

The illusive man of mystery, Wilson. I really didn't see much to him. Sure he was big, but in an average kind of way. Remember, I'm only seven. And when you see someone who looks like the devil, you're mind tends to play games with your eyes. Just as in my case, he was just one shock to close to the bathtub.

After being shut in my room, with nothing to do but sit on my comfy bed, I did what I was getting a little too used to... I eavesdropped.

"A little over protective isn't he?" Wilson. It really wasn't hard to peg out the voices. What am I talking about, back to the eavesdropping.

"Yeah. I've been hauling him around town all day so he's probably still coming down from his little episode in the mall." Was that really something to bring up, I thought. So many other details were just begging to be heard, and she was making small talk about me.

"So what are you saying? You're scared he's going to become like Dane?"

What?!

"Well, he was bitten by one of Dane's kind." She said, a hint of worry in her voice. It really wasn't something I wanted to hear.

"Yes, but the chances of that are--"

"Two out of five. Those aren't safe odds. And if he does begin to show that rage again, the little that it may be, eventually it'll tear him up inside."

A small silence fell between the two. Then a small sound arose between the two. Sniffling. Was she crying? I assured myself that it was just a figment of my imagination, and then it arose again.

Wilson spoke up, softly, reassuringly. "It's not the same as last time." He said. My interest sparked into an inferno. What happened 'last time'? "He still has another seven or eight year to... domesticate the situation."

Was this all about me getting angry at being surrounded by people. Sure it's never happened before but... that was nothing. Like sneezing in a hospital, I was sure that they were making a big deal out of nothing... right.

"Which leads me to the reason I came down here. I was clearing out your old room before I left for Russia and I saw that you still had Scott's birth certificate, social security card, and some other paperwork that you'd left behind."

"Yeah. I think I left them in a box in my closet."

"Sure. But while I was in Russia, I ran into someone who owed me a favor and well..." I could hear him shuffling through his coat. "Here.

"Oh my god..." Claire gasped. The sounds of someone flipping through a stack of papers was a little muffled, but I could hear it well enough to understand the sound. "They look real."

"That's kind of the point of forgery." He exclaimed, laughing heartily. "It's to get Michael into school. And if you notice, I changed the names, they should show exactly the same online also. And as a little, thanks for keeping up with the mansion, I brought you some new clothes, hopefully I got the sizes right."

******************************************************************************

The rest of the conversation had consisted of catch up on this, what's new with that! Boring adult stuff. "Who's Derrick dating now?" "When are you two going to come down to visit?" "Can I get a chance to to talk with the boy?" ... Wait, what?

I didn't get to catch the rest of their conversation due to my quick launch to my bedroom window. I flipped open the locks and with one heave, flipped open the window. And not really thinking before acting, I let the freezing air hit me square in the face.

The door opened suddenly as I expected it too, and when she walked in to ask me to come out, my little scene threw her off. She hung on the last syllable of her sentence, trying to piece together why I was covered in snow, the window was open, and why I was speechless.

"It was too hot in my room--"

"Uh huh."

"So I opened the window,"

"Yu huh." She crossed her arms, cocked her jaw a little and started on making that, 'I'm dead when he's gone' look.

A little moment passed between us as I was left with nothing to say and she was too angry to speak. "I'll close the window..." I said, defeat lining my words. I sighed. And wearily walked past her. Even when I wasn't looking at her, I could feel her eyes burning holes into the back of my head.

Wilson however, was in a totally different mood. All smiles this guy! I liked him. Hell, my instincts liked the guy, just by his smile and peaceful demeanor. "And you must be Michael!"

He stood, which threw me off. Usually the children were supposed to show respect to the adults. But here, he stood, hand outstretched and wearing a warm smile. I knew my caution showed on my face, I always wore my emotions on my shoulders. It's not something to brag about either, I just seemed to have an easily read face. I took his hand, gripped it like I would Ronnie's and took a seat on the plush, blue couch opposite of him.

"So how are things?" I didn't know what he was getting at. And for someone who seemed straight forward, he took a quick turn into beating around the bush. Not a quality I liked, but one I could tolerate.

"I'm a seven year old werewolf, who's lost his mother, been almost killed, and got scared half way to death by your brother." Is what I wanted to say... Instead. "Fine, you."

"Claire tells me you're not used to being talked down to like a regular kid." And this means... I thought sarcastically. "I meant how was you're transition from normal life to ours."

He really wanted to know. I could see it in the way he looked me in the eye. "Well, other than watching my mom die, and you're brother threatening to kill me, it's been memorable."

I heard Claire in the kitchen drop something.

Wilson instead only laughed. He was a real pleasant guy to be around... But I really did like being the center of attention.

"Claire told me about that over the phone. And I sincerely apologize for my brother's behavior. He's sort of a black sheep."

I snickered a little. I could feel the tension in the kitchen growing in depth.

"So what does domestication mean?" I asked. I knew it was bold, but what else did they really expect me to do in that boring room.

"It means, for us, to blend. You see the problem with my brother is the fact that his father was from a bloodline. That means that his instincts are much higher than a normal werewolf's. Thus makes his tension, anger, and fury all the more susceptible to his senses. It's a genetic thing. But the real problem comes with the fact that most of the people he's infected over the past fifty years tend to inherit his disease."

"Wait! Dane's over fifty!?" I asked sitting forward, crossing my legs under me.

"Well, he's closer than seventy now. You see, our kind ages about three times slower than normal people. Though, in your case... It might not kick in until you're well into you're teens."

Wow. That's some good news. But I wish he would have told me that ninety percent of all werewolves die in fights/accidents/ect. It's very rare for one of us to die of natural causes. And while taking in the good news of my longevity, the thought hit me... "But how am I connected to Dane?"

"The man who killed your mother and infected you, was once a good friend of Dane's, and one of the few he decided to infect."

"So there is still a chance that I might..."

"Be like him. Not really. Living with Claire here up north, you'll have plenty of good company, and a rather large variety of land to hunt in. Besides, I'm sure Claire will bring you up right."

"I hope so."


	10. A Single Insult

I sat behind him. Wilson. At the time, I wanted to reach from behind the passenger seat and slam his head into the car door window. It was something about that brown hair, that kind, cool demeanor. It was infuriating! I guess it was because of my new situation. As of that day, in the middle of October, I was to start school.

My spine tingled at the thought of sitting with a bunch of drooling, idiot children, eating glue and messing their pants. You see, I wasn't starting in the third or fourth grade like I should have, I was starting something the school system of North Dakota called the "Up Start" program. I'd spend a few days in pre-school. Then after a few days of observation, I'd be with a kidnergarden class. Some long day's afterwards, would be Halloween vacation, then first. So on, and so forth. I hated just the thought!

And when I finally arrived at the, rather large, school, I dragged ass like I'd never dragged ass before!

"Will you hurry up? You'll be late if we don't get you signed in. And I'm not going to have you be counted absent on you're first day!" Claire yelled, seeing that I was still in the car. She stood on the side-walk in front of the elementary school. Every adjoined building was some abomination of either red and white, or red and grey.

Opening the car door and slamming it shut a little harder than normal, I joined her side.

"This is a waste of time." I muttered.

"What? You're education?"

"Having to share an entire day with a bunch of four year olds... Is Wilson staying in the car?" I said, looking back at him. He was diddling through the car manual. I saw through the ruse, he was watching me. Prick.

Claire's hand pressed against my back, egging me forward deeper into the confines of the school. "Stop pretending you're interested in what Wilson's doing and get a move on. The sooner you get in, the sooner I'll be back to pick you up and you can complain all you want."

"Promise?" I asked, slinging my weightless book bag over my shoulder. The only things in there were a pack of pencils, and a bunch of crap like napkins and construction paper, that were on my "School readiness" list. You'd think with the four hundred dollars a year to start this crappy little misadventure, the school would provide the unnecessary burden of hunting down and buying all this crap!

"Promise."

******************************************************************************

I hate school. Not so much the fact that I had to learn. That wasn't the problem. The problem were the relentless children who ran along the walls and stared through the window to see a seven year old taking a pre-school class. I was embarrassed to say the least. I choked down my anger with each passerby. But soon found myself full, and tired.

I think the most humiliating moment of my day was when the teacher, obviously not seeing that I wasn't a toddler, telling all of us (the class) that it was nap time. And it was a time that I found how truly vulnerable the children of this town were. A piece of information, that if threatened, could be used for...

I caught the thought just as it started. What I didn't catch, was while the lights were out, and the teacher was gone on break, that I'd been producing and retracting claws. It's just a matter of control. As long as I could visualize the transformation, I could achieve it. I guess this was one of the many perks to being what I am.

Mind you, I wasn't right in the middle of these little ones playing around with my anatomy, I was backed off by the windows. I made sure to find a good spot where it took a little concentration to see me. Due to the rays of light that glared through the classroom windows, it wasn't hard to pick my hiding spot.

I reflected over listening to these kids butcher the alphabet. A little chubby Asian kid (I couldn't tell whether he was Vietnamese or Korean), also named Michael, had it down all the way to his "T's" after that he had trouble separating his numbers from letters. Him, I liked. The other's, I really didn't care too much for.

After that, we'd color. If I had the talent, I'd have drawn, in great detail, me hanging myself. But since I was born without the artist's touch, I drew a decent picture of my new home. I showed the two other children at my table how to mix colors to make new colors. It back fired and I wound up with red paint on my lap. And let me tell you, red paint on a pair of Khakis is very noticeable.

******************************************************************************

Hours later, I sat on the sidewalk. I watched after bus-load, after bus-load of kids, both older and younger, left the school. Smiles plastered across their day worn faces. I wished I could be one of them up until I saw how many people could fit on one bus. Then I became quite glad that I didn't live near these kids. I was a good twenty minutes out, and the busses ended their routes just under fifteen miles. And the only other school was... how should I say, less recommended. Kind of like a place for second chances... I'll leave it at that.

As the last of the buses were leaving an older student from the school hung his head out of the window. "Hey, It's that retard from the toddler class! Look everyone!" It didn't take long to find him, nor did it take but a second to find a rock at my side.

People were laughing, but what I found much worse, were that people were watching. When most people at the time heard the word, retard, they thought mentally challenged. It was instinctual, and something I knew a lot about. Instinct, that is.

Children all around were making their own comments as the boys bus was pulling away.

"Idiot boy spilled paint on his pants! HAHA!!!"

"Shut up." I called back.

"Oh. He's just some southern hick! That explains a lot!"

Children feigned horrible southern drawls. Making L's sound like W's. The whole shebang. And all I had, was one rock. And I threw it, and struck the stupid boy who hung out of the bus window. I saw it in his face as I threw the rock that he was getting ready to join back in with one final insult. But when the rock broke his two front teeth in half, causing his mouth to pool with blood, he quickly rethought his decision.

Teachers were on me instantly. Yelling and threatening me with "Paper work"! Oooooh! I wasn't scared of them. As long as that little prick learned his lesson. I should have been scared though. I didn't know the frayed wire I walked along as well as I thought I did. A truth that would become more and more apparent as the years passed on.


	11. Problem

I sat in the principals office. It had been over two hours ago that school had let out and Claire and Wilson were _still_ fighting to have them keep me, not kick me out. I didn't think it fair at all. But no one wanted to see it the way I did. So as I sat there, blotting out the yelling and negotiations between the three adults, I couldn't help but think them stupid. I was put on the spot because of these moron teachers and superintendents, so shouldn't it be them getting yelled at by Claire rather than the other way around. This didn't make sense!

"We can't have you're son, going around attacking students!" The fat principal declared. His oversized brown business suit stretched in protest to his mass. I had a hard time taking him seriously. What was this lard ass going to do? Stop me, I could kill him now. He's got about ten overly sharpened pencils on his desk just screaming to be stabbed in his jugular! I cracked a small smile, then got as mentally far from the subject as possible. I started to find that near people, my thought's were becoming more and more uncontrollable.

"Well, maybe if you're students didn't run the school than maybe he wouldn't _Have_ to defend himself!"

A head ache started suddenly in my head. It blurred across my eyes, like a heat flash. I saw myself diving between my two guardians into the fat man's face, snatching a small snow globe off his desk and beating him with it. Again and again the solid glass crushed his nose in more and more, until his face was free of cartilage, and his mouth free of teeth.

I ran my hand over my sweaty brow. _What had just happened?_ The three were still bickering. _Was it a day dream?!_ My stomach lurched a little at the thought of what would have happened after my breakdown. But again, I was fixated on pushing it aside. I just needed to maintain. I needed control.

"One more chance!" The fat prick yelled. By now I'd stopped thinking of Claire as an acquaintance and started seeing her as a mother. She was protective and stern. And as her child, I was very protective. And it took every bit of will power to keep from making my day dreams a reality on this man. Especially with him yelling at her for my mistakes. "One more chance to straighten up and fly right." I hated his advise. It just seemed stupid to me.

"Thank you. I promise you won't have any more trouble with Michael ever again." She said, rather graciously I might add. But it was a hollow promise. Something neither of us could actually commit too.

And after I apologized to the little shit starter who got to tell his story first, and sat crying in the waiting room with his mommy, we left. It wasn't a quiet ride either. I was getting yelled at like I was the physical embodiment of New York traffic.

******************************************************************************

I didn't tell either of them about what happened in the office while they were debating in my defense to keep me in school. Instead, I took my punishment, my grounding. It was much better than what I'd been used too! But the tones of disappointment in both of their voices were hurt enough for me.

And as I sat there, alone in my room, dreading the next day, I thought. I day dreamed of how I could get my mind away from my violent thoughts. One idea came up that was almost suicidal. Ask Dane for help... no...no!

God No! Maybe counseling? So I could have them tell everyone? I think not.

With dead ends at every turn, I spent hours upon hours, not finding a solution. It was infuriating, and a waste of time that I could have used for sleeping. Oh well.

******************************************************************************

I had a nightmare that night. I dreamt that Dane had taken Claire from me, and told me I had to give myself up to get her back. Where as much of the dream was blurry and hard too remember, I remember him slicing her neck open and then diving at me, with a mouth full of fangs.

I awoke in a sweat covered stupor, thanking God that it was just a dream. It was all... just a dream...


	12. Recoil and Rage

The few days after my little incident were awkward around Wilson. He eyed me at every inconvenient turn. Though, at first it seemed like he was just being weird, rather trying to figure me out. I hadn't a clue at his thoughts, though I was sure he was trying his damnedest to get into mine. His short, yet lingering glances, he gave me every time we were in the same room were getting annoying by day three, and down right rude by day five.

Claire on the other hand, seemed mad at me at first, but her anger faded within the first two days. Apologizing with a breakfast made from scratch: bacon, eggs, pancakes with syrup, and my favorite, grits with a light coat of butter. It was like she knew...

She watched me eat that meal. It was something I'd never forget. It was as if a small cloud of melancholy hung over her as she sat there. Small in it's size, but overwhelmingly there. I'll never forget how she grabbed my empty plate wordlessly and cleaned it without a word. Nor how she announced a sudden illness and locked herself away in her room that night either.

Wilson went to her once or twice, each time, I could hear her crying. And for one moment, I felt dread. "What did I do?" I asked myself. I sat in my room for what felt like hours. I, myself felt a little sick, and denied any and all food Wilson had made for me. Alone and teary eyed, I sat in my room. A feint whimper from Claire's room, reminding me of the pain that I'd somehow caused her.

My hands rested, clenched, on my lap. I hadn't moved a muscle since Claire started crying. Staring deep into the tan carpet that lined the floor in my room, I listened. Forcing myself to hear every cry, until I could practically feel her tears, feel her anguish.

Three days went by. I barely ate, worried sick, all I could do was scarf a small portion down and no more. Claire's sobs were gone completely by the second day, now all I could hear were the quiet conversations between Claire and Wilson. Her words were numb. That's all I listened to. I made it clear to myself not to listen to her words, but rather her voice. This pain, these chains of torment holding fast to my neck and back, were my own punishment.

I sat, again, rooted on the side of my bed, staring into the carpet. My eyes burned and blurred as I concentrated on the small beige fibers. The other two seemed like ghosts to me while I sat there. One moaning pitifully, to the point of it being excruciating to me, the other wandered the house aimlessly, poking his head in every now and again to check up on me.

I'd deny any service or food, and get back to my sulking. It'd been five days since I got suspended from school, and in two day's I'd be returning. An entire weeks worth of suspensions weren't worth this.

******************************************************************************

"It's not you're fault." The wanderer stood halfway in my room.

"Then why's she crying?" I asked, gaze unmoving. If it wasn't me, then why did she stare at me like that, why was he giving me strange looks every time we collided? When was my life going to become stable?

He didn't seem to have an answer.

"Then it is my fault." Silence fell between us. Corroding by his fumbling for words.

"Did you know that Claire had a son?"

I looked up, a little awe struck. I shook my head.

"There's a disease that plagues those who've been changed by my brother."

"But I wasn't bitten by him."

"You didn't have to be."

I thought of the strange man. His eyes were the darkest blue I'd ever seen, and that cobalt halo seemed to make them darker. I remembered how much it hurt when he bit me, and how much my mother bled as I became still with fear. Memories of my life started flooding my head: empty christmas's, unmentioned birthdays, and fear. What was this?

"The man who bit you was a survivor of the plague known as the "Saint Dane"." He said. I thought it fitting. "It seems mental at first as it attacks the brain. Heat flashes, head aches, and fantasies of mayhem are the first signs. I'm sure you've experienced it first hand." His voice was warm, almost sad. I guess he was trying to be comforting, but explaining a plague to a victim, I thought, should have been handled a little better.

"Well, the guy who bit me survived, why wouldn't I?"

"You're too young." Such a simple disadvantage, was now the difference between life and death. "Scott, was about you're age when he... passed." I gulped.

Under the fear, burned hate. It was small at first, but as he dove deeper, he started to become less and less appealing to listen to.

"He died because there is no cure. Only two of our kind have survived it."

"Who?"

"You're maker, and the man who named the disease, Dane."

******************************************************************************

A month passed. I didn't get my second chance at school. After our little chat, Claire had finally come out of seclusion, only to give me a hug, then start again. She'd already lost her first son, I felt horrible about being the second. I know my priorities were a little jagged, but I was never a stable person. And as far as I was concerned, my Mother deserved better.


	13. Adapt to Hell

I remembered the drive up as a day long, fright-fest between Claire and I. I remember her telling me to scream for help if I'd ever found myself stuck in the same room as Dane, and now, I'm heading right to him for help. I felt like a runt pup crawling to the alpha with my tail between my legs. I was tired, irritable, and I hadn't changed in over a month, so I had that whole mess following me around. (Insatiable hunger, and a deep need to stalk and kill something.) What was normal for me now, was a lot different than before the attack.

It felt like claws were digging into the back of my skull. The headache I'd gotten a few days before Claire's breakdown was nothing compared to this.

"Are you alright?" Wilson asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road, all the while trying to keep me from beating my head against the dashboard. "Where does it hurt?"

"My head." Upon speaking, I felt the blood flow cease to my brain. It was instantly dark.

******************************************************************************

I awoke a while down the road. We were definitely speeding. My heart felt like it was racing in my chest, but my headache was finally gone.

I lay in the back seat, lying on my stomach and panting for some reason. The sky was dark, and the occasional street light was so bright, that I had to cover my eyes when we passed, only to discover my hands were clawed.

"AAHHHH!!!" The scream jumped from my lungs as I flung myself across the car. Wilson panicked and we flew off road. There was a scream from Wilson as we hit a large ditch made for some kind of construction, and we were sailing into the night.

The car smashed against the ground like an atomic bomb, and we barrel rolled instantly. Wilson was ripped from his seat and flung out of the front windshield, where as I was stuck to enjoy the ride.

With a final roll, the car slammed into a large tree, splintering the dashboard and breaking the cabin top in half. I was lodged in between the back seat and the rear window frame. A thick metal piece of the frame was protruding from my left leg, pinning me in place with in-discriminant torture.

I quickly reached for it, my blackened skin glistened under the all of the blood covering it. I could feel dozens of shards of glass penetrating my back as I bent forward to free myself. I howled in pain. Every synapse in my mind wanted it to stop, but it didn't stop my body. Jerking myself forward, I ripped the metal from the bleeding wound without thought and in one foul swoop. The pain was indescribable.

Using my new freedom, I pushed off the collapsed roof and fell out onto the twisted trunk. The shards of glass in my back were all in protest, and dug in further to prove their points.

I stupidly rolled off and stood up for the first time in what felt like years.

My knees ached, but could withstand the pressure. My back was fine as soon as I swept away all the broken glass, and sooner than I'd expected, I found myself standing quite strongly.

But now I had a new problem. I may have killed the man who was going to try to save my life.

******************************************************************************

Disoriented and tired, I searched for him. And it took me but five minutes to find him, bloodied and broken in the woods, a good fifty yards from where I'd recovered. Half changed, I crawled over too him. My wounds had stopped bleeding, and by the looks of him, I'd say his did as well.

I grabbed his jacket, hearing sirens, and pulled him as far away as I could. Air escaped his lungs in little whimpers, reminding me he was still alive. And soon, following instinct, would lead me to a quiet stream. Where I would dress his wounds with his torn jacket and pray like I never have before.

The future was looking pretty bleak. And as I soon found out after stabilizing Wilson... I couldn't change back.


	14. Consequence

"Right here's fine, Michael." he said as I moved to prop him up against the tree nearest to the small creek. His voice was weak, and dimming. With blood covered hands, I sat him against the cool bark of the oak tree. "Thanks."

I nodded.

He looked around as I fell back in front of him. I crossed my legs and awaited further orders. My nerves were completely shot, and my instincts felt like they were going hay wire! Blood pumped into my heart with enormous pain, but I maintained.

"You can't change back... can you?" His eyes were all too knowing, and sad.

"_No_." I replied. My voice was a raspy growl. You must understand, my anatomy was all but stable. My insides constantly felt as though they were shifting from place to place. Heat radiated along my slick, black skin, and all the while, sirens reigned their obtrusive noise only fifty yards out.

"I c.." My voice closed up on me, and I growled a little. Much like tourettes, this plague was a massive nuisance. "Ccc... Can't!" Hearing my own voice was like listening to a second language, it required a lot of concentration.

Embarrassment crept through my spine as I darted my gaze.

Other than the creek before us, the night sky hid everything else. I could smell the other oak tree's and the cool soil beneath the two of us. The wind howled and gasped through the canopy of leaves above us, a haunting melody only mother earth could deliver. Serenity surrounded our broken bodies, almost enough to keep our sensitivity to pain at a minimum.

"Is he going to make it?" He asked, oddly catching my attention.

"Who?" I asked, my voice surprisingly clear.

As I gazed over too him, I was left breathless.

His eyes were gone, ripped from the sockets, and rested solemnly in both of his palms. A cracked smile crossed his lips, blood filled his mouth, and drained through his gums and down onto his chin. Like a waterfall it flooded his lap.

My lungs were empty, and my eyes burned from the sight.

"All you've got left, is to avoid the entrance to hell." He said, the blood bubbled as his words escaped him. And as I sat, awestruck, and taken back, only held stable by my tensed right arm, I found myself unable to respond.

Only seconds passed before maggots started rising from the empty eye sockets. "So will you survive?"

The ground tore in half between us, hell itself was arising.

Flames spurted the wounded earth as liquid fire shot from the gash. Rising from the crevice, were the screams of hells patrons and victims. Cries of men, women, and children, survived by the chaos they left behind here on earth. "TAKE HIM TO BURN!!!" Wilson shrieked, his arms raised high, and his eyes crushed by his closing fists.

I couldn't believe his words. His ability to sell my soul was an indescribable blow that seemed to snap my soul in half!

Tears flooded my eyes, "But I haven't done anything wrong!" I yelled, my voice as raspy as it once was earlier. "I'M INNOCENT!!!"

Blackened, burnt arms crossed the threshold between the two waring worlds. Their clawed hands, missing bone and meat. Fragments of tissue rubbed right off as they tried to grip the earth's soil. I winced at the sight.

One by one, hundreds by hundreds, their arms rose, and before I knew it, I was staring into the eyes of a small girl. Her black hair hung in patches, to her waist. Deep, dead, ruby eyes glared into my own, and her black skin seemed to blanket the world around me. She grabbed my shoulder, ripped my shirt down to my stomach, exposing the horrible scars from my initial bite.

"Such a lovely shell..." She said. And she turned into him. They reared back their head, exposing their sharp teeth, and ripped my throat out...

******************************************************************************

Wilson sat in a chair he'd dragged from the dinning room table, and rested his weary head in his hands. "God, let him pull through." He whispered.

Across from him, lying helpless and dying, was Michael. He'd only known him for a short while, but he was sure that this boy was worth the life he once had. Where as he could never be normal, he could at least be _his_ kind of normal.

The boy lay naked under the blankets that covered him. His clothes lay in a pile near the door, singed by his extreme skin. When he first dragged him from the car into the house, he was almost too hot to hold.

And now, his skin was too cold for any normal person to survive. "God, let him live." He cried silently. Tears crept between his fingers, and fell to the floor. "...please."

Silence was all to answer his prayers. The only motion in the room was the rising and falling of the poor boy's chest. The scars from his attack were jet black, the poison in the scared skin boiled over practically melting it down into a smooth line of tattoos. It still didn't negate it's damage.

...

...

...

"I'm... innocent."

The grievers head shot straight up. At first he thought that he'd imagined it. But there was that small hope... that maybe he hadn't.

Rising from his chair, he placed his hand over the boys head. It was warm! The blood flow stabilized! Quickly, he checked his pulse, listened to his hearing. Normal! Normal!

"I'm innocent." The boy moaned. "I'm innocent."


	15. Desperate Flesh

"Is Dane in my room?" Derrick called from the balcony. Still dressed in his Blue/Green, collar shirt. Having returned from partying the night before, he was absent from the house when Wilson came home, bearing the sick Michael.

Wilson looked back at him from the kitchen, toting a glass of milk and worried expression. "I hope not."

Reading Wilson like an open book was easy to do. And for Derrick not to realize something was up, would be impossible. "What's wrong?"

Closing the fridge and turning on his heal, Wilson made his way back to the room. "Remember that boy Claire brought home?"

"The lawyer from New Orleans?"

"No." Wilson said, passing him on the stairs. "The child."

"Yeah."

"Well, he's now getting over the Saint Dane plague."

It wasn't worry that struck Derrick, but the fact that once again, his room was being rented out (Freely) to some mutt! But in the midst of his internal bickering, a small question arose. "That disease died a decade ago!"

"Plague. Diseases don't wipe out ninety percent of the hosts race."

"Yeah, whatever. What I'm saying is that, even being bitten by a... host, couldn't cause a reaction. The plague isn't infectious anymore."

"I know that," Wilson said, and not wanting to continue the conversation, he handed off the cool glass to Derrick, so he could answer the door.

"You're hiding something."

"Yep." He replied simply, plucking the glass from Derricks hand and entering the occupied room without another word.

Derrick stood there a second, eyed the door and turned back downstairs. "Can't go anywhere without someone pawning _My_ room off to some stranger."

******************************************************************************

I sat up upon Wilson entering the room, and was pleased to see he'd brought me something to drink. Lying in bed on the brink of death can make a boy hungry, I suppose. He hunkered in, catching the door before it slammed shut, and handed the glass right to me.

"Thank you." I said graciously, grabbing the glass and taking a huge gulp. "Was that Derrick?"

"Yeah." He said.

"He complains too much."

He laughed, as I took another sip. "That he does."

I finished the glass, and thanked him again before putting it down on the dresser beside the bed. My head still hurt, but not nearly as much as my chest. My heart felt like it was a lot weaker, but that was just the fact that I got used to it beating three hundred times a minute. The extreme conditions that Saint Dane had put on my body left me feeling weak, and in pain.

"Are you still hurting?" He asked, reaching forward and feeling the temperature on my forehead.

"Not a lot," I lied, "I was just thirsty."

Wilson grabbed the empty glass from the dresser top, and anxiously wiped the condensation off with his thumbs. I could tell he hadn't much experience with dealing with kids, I being the kid. The awkward silences we shared were all to common in our little get-togethers, and it always left me feeling, well, awkward.

And then he spoke. "How did you survive?" He said, obviously thinking to himself aloud. I knew I didn't know, and I was fairly sure he didn't either. But regardless of the terms of his question, I answered.

"You saved me."

He looked up, those crystal blue eyes were flattered, and his smile made me feel like I'd said the right thing.

"Between you and me, though, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that you almost ran me off the road." He said.

"Sure." I said smiling. I knew Derrick would never let him live it down, and Dane...

"What's wrong?" He asked, seeing my smile fade.

"Dane lives here."

******************************************************************************

It was seven O' clock when I heard the door open downstairs. I could hear him take off his jacket, and even hear the coat rack rattle against the drywall as it fought for stability. The front door clicked shut, and I looked over to Wilson who'd been keeping me company every other hour during my first day of recovery. He didn't seem too worried about anything, but with every second, I prayed to hear Claire greet the house, or Derrick complain about the weather. Any thing but that man who brought so much fear into me. That man who's smile could conjure thoughts of death and mayhem. That man who threatened to pull my head off within ten seconds of meeting me.

"Wiiiiiilsooooon!"

It was Dane. His light voice echoed through the house like a poltergeist.

"Up Here!" Wilson said, sealing my fate. And seeing my fear, he smiled a little. "Don't be so scared, you're safe with me up here."

Yeah, right. I've seen Dane, and I've also seen the mess of blood and death that he had in his car when we met. I wouldn't put it past him to kill even his brother. And if that were the case, I don't think that Wilson could have put up a good fight, even if he was the elder... which he wasn't.

"Where's my little pup at?" He asked coming up the stares. Each step that creaked sent me further and further into the headboard I leaned on.

The door knob twisted, the gaps in the frame burst light from the hallway, and before I could do anything to close it, he was in.

"Well," He said. At that moment, I expected the smile that could corrode any ease. I expected that murderous look in his eyes. I expected a monster. But what I was greeted by, was something that seemed, familiar. "Hello Michael." He smiled, but it wasn't malice ridden. It was genuine. Those eyes, looked to me only for a second, it was just a greeting.

"Derrick called and said he's going up state to stay with Vince." Dane relayed to Wilson. His eyes darted back to me, as if this was a normal conversation. "Said there was a rat problem in his room."

'That Dick.' I thought.

And with that, he was gone.

It took me ten seconds of silence before I started with the questions. "What the hell was that?"

"Dane."

"That wasn't Dane!"

"Well, Mr. Dane, to you. But yes, that was him." He said, not really getting why I was so freaked out by what just happened.

"But he was so, normal..."

"He has his moments, besides, it's not like you won't get used to it." He said standing up. Grabbing his chair and turning off the TV.

"Why's that?" I asked, not really wanting to know.

"Because, he's the one who will be watching you while I'm gone."

"What, NO!"

Wilson stopped at the door.

"Trust me, you'll be fine. You two do have that plague thing in common." He said, leaving and shutting the door behind him.

'No, no, no, no, no!'


	16. The Sacrifice of Truth

Wilson was gone, and having left for work before I woke up, was a horrible thing. Because it left Dane and I alone, and left Dane bored. Or so I would imagine, the man was impossible to figure out. It was as if he tried to be. And if he did, he succeeded.

"Rise and shine." He said cheerfully. The drapes that kept the sun at bay from my closed eyes, were suddenly ripped aside. An explosion of bright yellow burned through my eye lids.

"Ahhh!" I yelled, sitting up fast and shielding my eyes with my hands. I glared at him as he waited patiently for me to respond. And when I didn't, he frowned.

"So." He said. "I'm guessing you're still a little angry about what I said."

I didn't say a word. For a second, it seemed like we'd known each other forever. But it was only for a second. One, brief, blistering second.

"Well, just so you don't forget, you're still a mutt here." His words cut deep, but I didn't show it. "And until you can control yourself completely, you will stay a mutt."

******************************************************************************

Unease went un filtered through my body all day. Time was slower than it had ever been. Especially since he never left me alone, save for when I got dressed after his rude little intrusion. After that, he was always around. He harped on the rules of the house for about an hour, and when I didn't respond to anything, he wrapped himself into a sea of silence.

At least until lunch time.

I looked anxiously at the clock, over and over again. The day had started to run it's course on me, especially my silence. My breath smelt horribly from keeping my mouth shut all day, and with no toothbrush or anything of the sort, that was mine, lying around, I was left with the bad taste of mourning breath.

He didn't cook, I didn't cook. We were both suffering in this little mind game that he and I found ourselves in. And it wasn't long before one of us were to crack.

"He's not coming home for a couple of days, so I guess you're little waiting game is just a futile attempt to stave of conflict."

The bastard was right. But how was I to know, I only knew so much about the people who lived here. To me, they were just aquaintences.

"Look, I'm not good with kids-"

"Or people apparently." I mumbled.

"And what's that supposed to mean?!" He yelled back from across the living room.

"Claire seemed just afraid of you as I was." I tossed back at him.

"I'd have thought you'd realize that she was scared for you, but I guess you're just a stupid as that bitch of a mother of yours!" He yelled. His words reigned down on me like the hammer of God. It stupefied me and left me more than a little enraged.

"And what's that supposed to mean?!" I yelled back at him.

"Well now the shoes on the other foot, isn't it?"

He stood and went to go upstairs. I didn't let him.

I'm not usually driven by anger, but something about what he said didn't allow me to just take it and leave.

"Who are you to even talk about my mother?!" I yelled, practically in his face. "What have you ever done, for me to take your shit!"

"I SAVED YOUR LIFE!"

I faltered on my next words, even forgot what they were. All I could think of was that he was lying.

"You lie." I mumbled.

"You're too young to understand, and even if you were, you're still to stupid to put two and two together!" He said, pushing me aside, and headed up the stairs.

"HEY!" I yelled, watching for him to turn around, he didn't. Instead he stopped dead. He was keeping something from me, I could feel it. Something important, and I wanted to know what it was.

"Either you're lying, or you're sadly mistaken. Because it wasn't you who dragged me up those stairs. It wasn't you who found me in that hell hole bleeding to death." I said. "It wasn't you who cared for me enough to give me a second chance at life, and it sure as hell wasn't you who gave a damn!"

The front door opened just after I was finished, and now between me and Dane stood his younger brother. I was so angry at him, fed up to the point of bursting out with rage, that I couldn't help but leave him with one bothering notion.

"I guess this makes you a liar."

******************************************************************************

'The nerve of that man! "I saved your life!" My ass.' The rest of the day, I was in my own head. Spending the rest of my day outside, and refusing to go back inside (No matter how much Wilson pleaded) I had a lot of time to think. 'He was nowhere to be in every horrible situation I'd ever been in, and yet he had the gall to say he'd saved my life?! He Was out of his mind, there was no other excuse! No possible way that he could have altered any outcome that I'd ever been in!'

I scowled into the setting sun, and just breathed. I fumed on the inside, but at least I could enjoy my silent surroundings on the outside. The cool winter breeze wasn't as bad as in North Dakota, not even nearly. I'd have to say it was around forty or fifty degrees outside. Inside though, I was sure it was much warmer.

Derrick had gotten home about an hour ago, and having been working on an oil rig out in the gulf all day, he was quick to start up the fire place. Keeping to himself as he got cozy, he read. I couldn't really see what he was reading from the back porch, but it was thick and paperback. Wilson glanced out at me every time he passed, and his frown told me that neither of us had come out of our hiding spots yet.

As the sun died down a little more, and the red after-light that hung in the clouds, started to fade, I was greeted by Derrick. I wasn't too happy to see him either, having him call me a rat and a mutt wasn't hanging well with me. Not in the slightest. Though I will admit, that I was a little short tempered, and more than a little rude. Where as I never really noticed at first, I'd never called anyone sir or ma'am here, nor did I every say mister. I guess knowing them by just their names was enough for me... 'I don't know. I just want a little serenity I guess.'

"Hey." He said, pulling up a wicker chair, sitting right across from me. "You really shouldn't give Dane such a hard time."

"But he started it."

"Att!" He said, quieting me before I even started. "You have no idea the lengths he's gone to to make this house, our lives better."

I didn't follow at all.

"I know it's hard for you to understand right now, but had it not been for Dane, we would still be at war with the others of our kind."

I couldn't believe him at first. He was such an impatient person, quick to judge and quick to insult. His little cloud that he hovered around on was too much to just let pass.

"Well then why does he act like such a jerk?"

"That's for him to say. It's not my place in the matter."

It wasn't a great answer, but I took it. And as he coaxed me back into the house, sat me down next to the fire, and brought me a plate of warm food, I felt sorry for what I'd done. Maybe we did start on the wrong foot.

What if because of my being a mutt, he viewed me as an enemy? What if I hadn't deserved his respect in the beginning? What if I was wrong about him?

"Thanks." I said, taking the plate full of red beans and rice from Derrick.

******************************************************************************

That night I was offered one last night in Derricks room. Derrick, insisting that I use it for the night (Since he'd be out at a friends house) was happy to lend it out for one last night. The way that these people were changing around me were all amazing. It was like watching them grow, but that was an instantly foolish thought, seeing as I was the child of the house.

As I opened the door, and stepped through the threshold into my... Derrick's room, something caught my eye. A small picture lay tossed on the bed, unwrinkled, and upside down. On the back was a scribbled message written in blue ink.

_I'm sorry I wasn't there. - Daniel ''Dane'' Thomas_

As I flipped the picture, my heart sank. There in the picture were three people. Smiling into the camera that took their picture. On the far right was Derrick. His face covered in cotton candy. Carnival lights lit up the background and a ferris wheel was protruding in the background behind him. On the far left was Dane. His hair was cut shorter than it was now, and he was kissing the girl next to him on the side of her brown hair. She was about a foot shorter than him, her smile was one unlike any other. Her cheeks were red with blush, and she wore a gold wedding ring that she displayed to the camera. The happiness between the two was a spectacle unlike any other. Something I'd never seen in her before. In all the years of my existance, I'd never seen her smile, nor have I ever seen her wear a ring. But here, betrothed to Dane... was my mother.

Which made Dane... "Father."


	17. Safe Haven

I stared at that picture all night. I'd never been as captivated in anything before it. This impossibility, facing me with the smiles of my mom and dad... were overwhelming. And yet, I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

I looked over into my fathers eyes, that cobalt blue ring wasn't there. But his black hair was. I subconsciously felt through my own as I stared. 'I got that from him.' I thought suprisedly. And looking into my mothers, bright and alive, green eyes, I knew there was no question where I'd gotten my own.

Wiping a stray tear from my cheek, I put the picture down for a while.

I didn't know what to think at all, but I did know that I couldn't help but smile a little when I looked at the picture. Understand me please, that this was far from forgiveness. Where as my mother was smiling here, didn't stop her from lying, and beating on me almost daily. And my father's smile doesn't negate the fact that he let this happen... or does it?

I didn't know. My feelings were flooding my mind to the brink of breakage, trying to find what was right to do. But silence was my answer... At least for a while.

My room was dark, and empty when I entered it earlier, but it didn't feel like that for long. The longer I held the picture away from myself, the stuffier and more cramped the room felt. I knew it was just anxiety... until he spoke.

"That picture was taken September twenty-first, nineteen eighty-six. Three months before you were conceived."

I didn't look at him. I didn't need to too see the differences in his eyes. I knew he was just as sad as I was, or happy... either way, I didn't look. But it surely didn't keep me from listening as I lifted the picture once again.

I noted that my mother didn't look pregnant at all. Not something that mattered being three months before their conception. I just mused that between then and my birth... something horrible happened between the two.

"I get it if you don't want to talk. I'm not asking you too." He said rather honestly. "But I do think you should know exactly what happened."

Silence radiated me once again as he stopped for a second to make sure I had nothing to say.

"We met at Louisiana State University." Remembrance of such a great time in his life, fled from his lips as he spoke. I could hear the fondness of this memory perfectly. "She played tennis, and so did I. Though, I was never as good as Melissa... your mom."

'I know her name.' I thought, not wanting to disturb him.

"We shared a lot of classes together, (The main two being Trigonometry and English Lit), while we were dating, and when we graduated, I proposed."

"It seemed like great news at the time, but then, the war broke out. It was silent, and unheard by the humans... but it never stopped being a war. You see, packs started sheltering in violent mutts. They'd kill humans, and pretty much anything else that moved. And unable to control themselves... they spread like wild fire. Our population tripled during the first week, before we even knew about it. Then doubled the following year. It was chaos."

"The packs that these mutts hid behind, were man hunters. They were careful, and quiet about their kills, never infecting, and never letting anything survive... but they still killed. And at the time, there were more of them than there were of us."

"It was just me, my brother, and Derrick. Derrick was only twelve at the time, but still could hold his own. Wilson was dodgy with the way he fought, but still was at least a worthy partner. And so our little team, built, conquered, and finally put an end to the war."

"How?" I asked.

"I'll tell you when you're older." He said after a short silence. I could see that he didn't want to be distracted. And after nodding, he began again.

"Though, as I fought, you're mother was left alone. For two years she waited for me, as I spent day after day, tracking and killing mutts in northern California. I guess that's why she called off the marriage. Wilson had told me to tell the truth... but then she'd have just thought I was insane."

I could see how that would make since. 'Hey honey, the reason I was gone for two years without a word is because I was hunting werewolves in northern California until they were all gone. Oh, and I'm one as well. But a good one!' It wouldn't fly, I knew that much!

"Instead. I went to see her. When I got there, I saw you! For the very first time..." He paused, rubbed his eyes a little, then resumed. "I couldn't believe it! I was a father! But not for long. Because two words into my apology, she stabbed me in the arm with a pen, then kicked me out the house."

"There's no forgetting that!" I said, knowing all too well, my mother's violent streak. But I've never seen her stab anyone before... that was new.

"Yeah."

"Did you every try again?"

"Twice... she pulled a gun on me the second time, then shot me on the third. I've still got both scars in my left arm!" He laughed a little. And to be honest, I found it a bit funny myself.

"I once threatened to kidnap you though... so that didn't help the matter at all. That's when she had a restraining order put out on me. I saw it coming too, but there was nothing I could do. That's when I met a mutt named Keith Jessup. He was infected with the plague, but was on it's later stages. He'd been the second to survive it. The first being-"

"You." I said. He looked at me, obviously wondering how I knew. "Wilson told me about the plague while I was recovering."

"Right. Well, Jessup wanted protection from the other packs that were hunting him. And we worked out a deal. He didn't hunt humans, and kept me informed with what was happening with you and your mom, and as I promised, he wouldn't be touched."

"He was the man who bit me?"

Pain bit at the end of his tongue before he could answer, but, "Yes. That was my fault."

"It's also why you got the plague, but already being part wolf since before you're attack, you were destined to over come it. Hell, you were designed for it, if you ask me!"

Time passed as we continued further and further into conversation. He told me about the day at the fair, and how Derrick, who'd gotten in an argument with the cotton candy vendor, got his head pushed into the cotton candy machine! He told me about the ferris wheel ride that he had paid the operator to stop once he and my mom were at the top. He told me about the proposal, and about the last three months with my mom before he left... but he strayed from the war. I instantly found it, a bad thing to ask about the war.

"So what happens now?" I asked, still smiling from his stories.

"Now you go to sleep... It's past twelve, and we're going to meet with the school board tomorrow to see if we can't get you into a decent school." He said, watching me frown with a smile on his face.

"Good night."


End file.
